


Astrology and Confessions

by enjolrazzledazzle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:05:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolrazzledazzle/pseuds/enjolrazzledazzle
Summary: Combeferre takes Courfeyrac to watch a meteor shower but Courfeyrac thinks Combeferre is the only thing worth watching.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shit at titles, shit at summaries but here's my secret santa submission for @eetrelibre on tumblr. I hope you have a happy holiday and a better new year! 
> 
> My tumblr is @enjolrazzledazzle-a03 please validate me.

“Wake up,” someone whispers. 

 

“Fuck off,” Courfeyrac groans as he rolls away from whatever is waking him up. 

 

“Courf, it's me. Wake up.”

 

Courfeyrac blinks sleepily at the sound of Combeferre's voice. He stretches and blinks blearily as he lets out a loud yawn. 

 

“The fuck do you want? It's the middle of the night,” he complains. Combeferre is one of his more reasonable friends, so he sits up instead of going back to sleep. 

 

His roommate is crouched beside his bed in his dorky glasses and dorky Nicola Tesla shirt and his dumb gorgeous hair. 

 

“Why are you in my room?”

 

“There's a meteor shower in half an hour. I thought we could bring some blankets down and watch,” Combeferre explains like a small child on Christmas Eve. 

 

“You,” Courfeyrac pauses to yawn, “are a gigantic nerd.”

 

“Is that a yes?” Combeferre's hopeful smile is possible the most beautiful thing Courfeyrac has ever seen. 

 

“Okay, fine. But I'm bringing alcohol,” he grumbles. But there was never really any doubt that he would say yes. He'd do anything for Combeferre. 

 

Combeferre's grin grows impossibly wider and Courfeyrac as to shoo him out of the room so he can change and stop blushing. 

 

He bundles up with a few layers because it's fucking January and he knows Combeferre will scold him if he underdresses. The man is fucking neurotic, he swears. 

 

“You ready to go?” he asks into the darkness of their living room. 

 

“Yea let’s go. Don't forget the-”

 

“I got the beer, you have the-”

 

“I've got the blankets.”

 

“Fucking married couple, I swear to god,” Courfeyrac mutters as they leave the apartment. 

 

The streets are empty and the moon is full. Courfeyrac loves is when the world is quiet like this. He loves it when there's no one to judge him and no one to impress. He loves it when he doesn't always have to be the funny one. The one who's not allowed to have problems. In public he's the comic relief. But in private he's more than just a punchline. 

 

He's surprised that it feels the same, walking down this empty sidewalk with Combeferre by his side. He's not anxious. He feels the same but almost happier. 

 

“Why don't we just lie down in the road,” Courfeyrac suggests giddily. 

 

“What, in the middle of the street?”

 

“C’mon it's not like any cars are coming.” Courfeyrac skips to the center of the road and sets down the six pack. 

 

“And if they do?” Combeferre begrudgingly spreads out the ratty blanket to lie on. 

 

“Then we'll run,” he grins and sprawls out on the blanket. Combeferre sighs and joins him, a tiny smile playing on his lips. 

 

“I've been waiting for the shower for weeks. I can't wait.”

 

Courfeyrac listens as Combeferre rambles on about astrology and stuff way over Courfeyrac’s head. The streetlights illuminate Combeferre's brown skin and his eyes fucking sparkle, he swears to God. He just needs to fucking kiss him right-

 

He needs to stop is what he needs to do. 

 

He clears his throat and grabs a beer, popping it open. He chugs half the thing and then lies back down. 

 

Combeferre has stopped talking and they both stare into the sky, waiting in silence for the meteor shower to begin. 

 

It's freezing, Courfeyrac notices and his teeth begin to chatter, and the alcohol is doing little to warm him. He tries with all his might to not Combeferre hear his shivering. But to no avail. 

 

“Oh geez, I should have given you a scarf. You must be freezing,” Combeferre sits up, looking around like a scarf might appear out of nowhere. 

 

“I'm fine, seriously.” His teeth chatter nonetheless. 

 

“No you're seriously not. Come here,” he orders and opens his arms for Courfeyrac. 

 

And this is where Courfeyrac knows he should resist. Knows he shouldn't give in. But he does. 

 

He leans in so their sides are pressed together and Combeferre can wrap his arms around him. 

 

“Better?”

 

Courfeyrac swallows and takes a steadying breath. “Yea.”

 

Combeferre gasps and looks up. “It's starting!” he exclaims. 

 

Courfeyrac looks up as well into the inky black sky and watches the trails of light that Combeferre is so mesmerized by. They're enrapturing for sure but his eyes are drawn to the beautiful man beside him, eyes wide with wonder. Courfeyrac's neck hurts from looking up at Combeferre but it's worth it to see his dazzling smile. 

 

Nothing, Courfeyrac thinks, nothing is better than watching a person fall in love. And Combeferre does it all the time. He constantly and eternally finding beautiful, inexplicable things to fall in love with. Combeferre is in love with the world. 

 

Courfeyrac is in love with Combeferre. 

 

“What?” Combeferre looks down at him, puzzled. 

 

“What do you mean, what?” Courfeyrac's stomach drops. 

 

“You said something,” Combeferre insists and he's frowning and this is not good. 

 

“No,” Courfeyrac is going to die. 

 

“It almost sounded like you said… ‘I’m in love with you’?”

 

“I have to go,” Courfeyrac blurts and stands abruptly. He runs a block away when he realizes he has nowhere to go and that he's wearing bunny slippers. 

 

He sighs and rubs at his eyes in exhaustion. It's past midnight by now. He turns back around to see Combeferre still sitting on the blanket, staring at his knees. 

 

Courfeyrac walks back to him cautiously. 

 

“You love me?” Combeferre asks him. 

 

“Yea.”

 

“Why didn't you tell me?” 

 

Courfeyrac sits down in front of him. “I didn't want to ruin our friendship. And I just thought…” he trails off, picking at the frayed blanket. 

 

“You thought what?”

 

“You love science!” he exclaims. “You're in love with stars and meteor showers and anomalies and theories about life on other planets! You're in love with the world and I just don't see how you could love someone as small as me,” he explains breathlessly. 

 

Combeferre looks shocked. And offended. And incredibly hot but that's beside the point. 

 

“I love the world. I love astronomy and I do love Neil Degrasse Tyson. But I am not in love with science, Courfeyrac. I am in love with you. You're larger than life. You're larger than any meteor shower or eclipse. I'm in love with you.”

 

They're holding hands now and Courfeyrac can't believe this is happening. “Are you calling me fat?” 

 

“Shut up,” Combeferre breathes fondly. 

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Their lips meet hesitantly, neither wanting to scare the other off. The kiss is soft and sweet and sure Courfeyrac has kissed a lot of people. But this is different. This is Combeferre whose lips are against his. Those soft pink lips trail their way down his chin and to his neck, kissing those freckles and making Courfeyrac shiver for a completely different reason. 

 

He threads his hands through his roommate’s hair, sifting through the curls slowly, the way Combeferre likes when they're curled up watching a movie. He's never said so, but there's a silent agreement that when Ferre lays his head down on Courfeyrac's thigh, this is what he wants. 

 

“I can't believe we could have been doing this,” he murmurs breathlessly. 

 

Ferre smiles against his collarbone. What they have now is gentle and kind and new. 

 

“Let’s get back inside. Wouldn't want you to get hypothermia,” Combeferre replies and links their hands when they stand up. 

 

“Have you to keep me warm,” Courfeyrac drawls. 

 

“Hush, you.”

 

____

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this self indulgent fluff:)


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